


something borrowed

by tommyandthejons



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 23:43:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15983003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommyandthejons/pseuds/tommyandthejons
Summary: For the prompt "I've wanted this for so long"-- wedding fic. Complete fluff!





	something borrowed

It wasn’t how Lovett would have imagined his wedding. For a long time, he hadn’t imagined being able to get married at all, or at least not legally, which had been both more and less of a thing than people seemed to think it should have been for him.

Then, when it had been possible, he’d thought about it— he hadn’t had much choice, nearly everyone who knew him, and knew he was gay, asked— but if he’d had to describe his ideal wedding then, it probably would have been something simple, maybe just a quick ceremony at city hall, the act more important than the ceremony. He’d never thought that deeply about it, other than that if he carried through on a city hall wedding his mother would probably kill him, only to bring him back to life to ask about grandkids. If she had her way, his wedding would be a spectacle with cousins and aunts and uncles he hadn’t seen in years, squeezed into a venue that would have been large enough if they’d stuck to the original list instead of adding more and more relatives he’d never met. If Lovett had hopes for a wedding, it was that it would end up somewhere between the two extremes.

This was something different altogether: outside, on a sunny— but thankfully not too hot— California day in Indochino suits that their friends assured them matched— comments about strip clubs aside, Lovett trusted Louis’s input more than Tommy’s, standing back to back with Jon for the first look photo the photographer and wedding planner had bullied them into. Lovett had proclaimed loudly on more than one occasion that he thought the concept was ridiculous. He’d stopped partially because Jon had stopped reacting— getting a rise out of him was a bigger motivation than Lovett really ever wanted to admit— and partially because he'd started to suspect Jon actually liked the idea.

Still, he couldn’t help whispering, “I already saw you this morning,” loudly enough that the photographer must have heard based on her snicker. When that didn’t get a response from Jon, he added, “In bed.”

Lovett was pleased when Jon rocked back against him, a silent chastisement. He waited another beat then said, “Naked,” in case Jon had forgotten.

Lovett hadn’t. He’d woken up to find Jon staring at him. Before he’d woken up enough to decide between making a joke about what a creep Jon was and one about how sentimental he was, Jon shifted, moving down and drawing the sheet with him. Lovett was still sleepy and slow enough that he let Jon arrange him to his liking, only lifting his hips automatically when Jon teased him over his boxer briefs with light kisses that weren’t nearly enough, instinctively seeking out more pressure. He lifted again, intentionally, when Jon finally pulled his underwear down and took Lovett into his mouth, pushing up desperately, until Jon moved his hands to hold Lovett in place and at his mercy.

“Well, I’m looking forward to doing this for the rest of our lives,” Lovett said, pulling a pleased smile from Jon before pulling him up into a kiss. He could taste himself in Jon’s mouth as he reached down to find Jon gratifyingly, if unsurprisingly, hard.

“What do you want? Any crazy last requests before we’re a boring, married couple?” he joked, half expecting Jon to accuse of him of flip flopping.

He didn’t. He said, “Just you,” and he sounded so raw, just from Lovett’s hand on his dick, that Lovett couldn’t bring himself to make a joke about how he should have asked for something more.

Lovett had to stop thinking about it or he’d end up suggesting they ditch the photo shoot even if it did fuck up all the planning, as long as it meant he could fuck Jon too.

It didn’t help at all when Jon said, “Lovett,” chidingly in response to his last comment. He wasn’t sure when that tone had stopped making him feel bad and started turning him on, but it was a problem. Lovett was almost glad when the photographer indicated she was ready because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could refrain from thoughts that would probably lead to public indecency. 

Just before they turned, Jon said, “You know, I’ve wanted this for so long,” which was completely emotionally unfair— Lovett had long since lost any defenses he’d thought he’d built against Jon when he was being sincere. Then they were turning, and as stupid as Lovett had thought the whole thing was, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of Jon. It wasn’t the suit, or at least, it wasn’t just that— Favs in a well cut suit was a sight to see and one that Lovett freely admitted he enjoyed. No, it as the confirmation that they were really doing this, that it wasn’t some sort of elaborate, unlikely fantasy he’d had.

“Lo,” Jon said. “You look—” he paused, biting his bottom lip for a second as he looked Lovett over, taking in everything. If he hadn’t been wearing his feelings so clearly across his face, his eyes fucking yearning like a character in a romcom, his mouth slightly open in a way that made Lovett want things, his hesitation might have made Lovett less confident instead of more.

“You look good,” Jon finished softly, like he couldn’t quite believe it was real either.

“And you call yourself a speechwriter,” Lovett teased. “You don’t look bad yourself,” he said, letting himself take in the full effect of Jon in his suit— which did, after all, match quite nicely— before leaning in to whisper smugly, “I liked this morning’s look too, though,” pleased when that set Jon laughing and he pulled Lovett close in his arms.

That was when he made himself admit, “I’ve wanted this for a long time too,” quietly, just for Jon to hear. It was true. He wanted this with an intensity that still scared him sometimes and had for longer than he’d been willing to admit.

In the end, that was his favorite of the photographs, more than the one of Jon, eyes shining when he said, “I do,” or of them crushing the glass together, more than the one of their first dance, or of them cutting the cake, or of any of the things he hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted until he’d had Jon to want them with.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](https://tommyandthejons.tumblr.com).


End file.
